


Coalescence

by GrindingGears



Series: Building Bridges [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bond Play, Chair Sex, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Exploration of Bonds, Fingering, Gestalt Bond, Group Sex, I headcannon Prowl having an aft kink okay, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Orgy, Other, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spark Play, Voyeurism, aft port, relationship exploration, spark merge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrindingGears/pseuds/GrindingGears
Summary: Saying you're willing to try a relationship with a mech who's already in a six-way bond is a little different from watching that mech be thoroughly ravaged by said gestalt-mates. Joining in is a whole 'nother thing entirely.





	Coalescence

**Author's Note:**

> This bit is meant to build off of the resolution of Jazz and Prowl's relationship status at the end of Establishments in the Building Bridges series, but can be read in isolation. This part is intended to take place in a tenuous time in the series between the Ark-7 leaving Cybertron and arriving at Earth.

Prowl moaned, long and shameless, from between the two green forms. It was a desperate sound, made in brazen lust and frenzied hunger. The Constructicon above him, Bonecrusher—no... Long Haul (Jazz was still getting their names right), echoed his enthusiasm between thrusting grunts. Scavenger let out a cry of his own from below, but was quickly silenced as Prowl descended on his exposed lips in an open mouthed assault.

Jazz had never seen Prowl quite so undone, and he praised himself on his ability to bring the uptight mech to the brink of madness just with his glossa. Though nothing challenged someone's sanity quite like being worked over by two well-proportioned spikes, and that was without taking the bond-feedback into account.

Jazz still didn't quite understand it all. But that was why he was here. How Prowl explained it, the bond gave him full access to the Construticons' neural nets when the link was completely open, and vice-versa. This led to some serious phantom sensory data which could saturate his own neural net in a feedback loop, and when combined with his own stimulus resulted in a sensation not unlike being 'faced and doing the 'facing at the same time. Multiply that across several bonds, and it sounded like one hell of a frag.

Jazz couldn't blame the mech for submitting to that. If the Constructicons had been teasing him with it, Jazz wasn't sure he would last long when tempted with those possibilities. He could only imagine what the tactician was experiencing now.

When Long Haul broke his gestalt mates' kiss by provoking another lewd cry from Prowl via an intricate groping of his doorwings, Scavenger glared up at the dump truck. But the excavator didn't seem too upset after Prowl descended on his neck with impassioned nips.

In fact, thinking about what Prowl was experiencing was a very enticing idea: Sandwiched between two large bodies. A spike in his valve and another thrusting into his aft. His own member rutting hard between his frame and the one below him. Their three forms moved with the forceful thrusts of the mech taking him from behind; the large dump truck's servos solidly locked around his sensitive doorwings.

Then to have all that amplified by phantom data bursts of what everyone else was experiencing... Including their audience.

"Enjoying the show," Mixmaster breathed into Jazz's audio, the larger mech's field flaring in arousal as a servo reached up to grope at a leg of the sports car seated in his lap.

"And you're not?" Jazz taunted back, flaring his field in a experimental test.

Mixmaster's engine revved in response to Jazz's tease and the spy could feel the construction build smile against his neck. The servo on his leg gripped harder, roughly teasing the seems it found there.

Jazz still wasn't sure about all this, about the servo on his thigh or the Ex-'Con who it was attached to. To be honest, he wasn't sure about any of the Constructicons, and especially not about being felt up by one of them.

From across the room, Prowl gave another desperate moan. Long Haul was now nibbling at the upper edge of one of his doorwings, causing the tactician to arch up into the touch. The motion left his chest open to an assault on his headlights by Scavenger's glossa.

Jazz wasn't sure about the Constructicons. But he was sure about Prowl. Prowl was the reason he was here. If he wanted to really have a relationship with Prowl, he'd have to get used to the Constructicons.

And they'd have to get used to him. Prowl had been right when he said they weren't used to sharing, at least not with mechs outside of the gestalt bond. They were very used to sharing with each other if the way they were divvying up Prowl was any indication.

Long Haul pulled at the police cruiser, curving his back as far as it would go to capture the tactician's mouth in a kiss. This new position provided Scavenger better access for his assault on the monochrome mech's chest.

"Hot, isn't he?" Mixmaster whispered into Jazz's audio. "He's always hot, even when he isn't being fragged up the aft. He'll keep us running after him for mega-cycles, just for a chance to lick the dirt off his pedes. Because he knows he can. Because he knows we'll do anything he wants just for a chance to suck his spike."

Mixmaster's digits roughly teased at the seams in Jazz's thigh as they slowly moved towards the apex of his legs. If Jazz didn't want this to happen, now was the time to back out. But when Prowl broke his kiss to fix Jazz with a stare, face panting with want, Jazz knew there was no place he'd rather be.

"It's not just his body either," Mixmaster continued as his servo moved to rub at the cover of Jazz's valve. "The way he moves. Walking around like he owns the place. Flaring those imitation wings of his, demanding everyone pays attention to him like he's some fragging seeker fresh off the assembly line."

Jazz let out a whimper at Mixmaster's assault, unable to break Prowl's gaze as the dirty words were rasped into his audio.

"And the way he talks," Mixmaster went on, his pressure becoming more firm. "Slag, it's all so hot. That timbre in his voice when he's giving orders. Primus! It makes me hard just thinking about it. "

Jazz came very close to echoing that sentiment as Long Haul leaned down to try and regain Prowl's attentions, only to be dismissively brushed away. Prowl's only concern right now was Jazz and the servo between his legs.

"You haven't even seen his mind yet," Mixmaster didn't stop. "His every thought is perfection. There's no place in his processor for anything other than the goal he's working towards. Nothing can distract him from what he wants. It's amazing to feel."

Jazz could feel something alright. Every exulted description of Prowl caused more lubricant to collect in his valve. The digits teasing his cover didn't help either. But more than either of those, the way Prowl stared at him with dimmed optics, transfixed on the servo between his thighs, made his spark spin.

"And the way he looks at you," Mixmaster continued, his voice deepening still. "As if with just a glance he knows everything you've ever done wrong in your life. Like he could destroy you in an instant with just a word... and you know that someday he will."

Jazz's panel snapped open, unable to resist any longer. Mixmaster immediately pressed his advantage by circling a digit around the swollen rim, enticing a moan from Jazz's lips and breaking his stare with Prowl.

"Shall we show him your sins," Mixmaster teased, nudging a knee against the inside of the spy's legs to encourage them to part.

Jazz immediately spread them wide, letting all of him be seen. But the tactician wasn't the only one watching now. The other Constructicons had stopped trying to recapture Prowl's attention and were entranced by the display Mixmaster was putting on of Jazz. With everyone captivated, Mixmaster slowly pressed a thick digit inside of Jazz's sopping valve, fragging him with it in teasingly shallow thrusts for all to see.

Jazz grabbed at Mixmaster, hoping to find something of the mech's to grasp onto to convince the spiteful 'Con to give him more. But the large construction build simply swatted his servo away, letting out an amused laugh at the action. Before Jazz could make another pass at the green mech, Mixmaster pushed a second digit into him, scissoring them to stretch his valve wide.

A whimper came from across the room. The sound originated with Scavenger as he attempted to buck up into the mech above him. But the weight of the two other bodies pressing him down only allowed for a few shallow thrusts. As the sound threatened to escape his mouth again, Long Haul reached down and covered the excavator's face, not once looking away from Jazz in the process.

Mixmaster continued to tease the spy's valve, alternating between shallow thrusts and stretching the rim. It was all too much... and not enough at the same time. When Mixmaster took his fingers away, Jazz wasn't sure if he should curse or thank the mech. But before he could decide on either, he felt a distinct heat resting at his rim.

Looking down, Jazz saw Mixmaster's spike, fully erect and resting against his valve. The unit was larger than he was used to, not the biggest he'd ever had but notable nonetheless. Jazz was well experienced in the berth and it wouldn't be too much of a stretch after the preparation. Nevertheless, it was a challenge Jazz was very much ready to take.

"You ready?" Mixmaster asked, surprisingly considerate for what Prowl had told him of the Constructicon's usual behavior. It was a good sign.

When Jazz nodded his helm in affirmation, Mixmaster moved the spy's hips into position so he could press his spike into that wet heat. The stretch was intense, definitely more than the sports car was used too. But Mixmaster was being careful, and what little ache there was soon became replaced by the great pleasure of being thoroughly filled.

Mixmaster was taking it slow... agonizingly slow. If Jazz didn't get that spike fully inside of him soon, he was going to blow a fuse. When he made an attempt to press down, Mixmaster took the hint and seated himself wholly inside Jazz with one swift motion.

It was intense, being so full. Jazz needed a moment to adjust, to feel that beautiful spike stretch his valve as wide as it would go. When Jazz gave a nod to continue, Mixmaster started a steady rhythm, pulling Jazz's wanting valve down onto his hard spike. His earlier gentleness was gone now, replaced by a barely restrained need to frag. Jazz couldn't say he was upset by that fact.

While Mixmaster filled him again and again, Jazz became aware of a strange light at the edge of his visual field. As the two seated mechs had been busy, the trio across the room had resumed their activities. Scavenger had been permitted the use of his mouth again, and was happily using it to lick away at Prowl's chest plates. Chest plates that were splitting open to reveal the tactician's spark.

Jazz stared, his own situation completely ignored as he watched Scavenger lean back and bare his spark in return. He'd never seen mechs bond before. Never seen a spark except for through a blast hole in someone's chest or inside a prison stasis chambers. As Prowl leaned down so they could meet, Jazz felt his entire body ache in need.

"You want it," Mixmaster's voice came startlingly gruff in his audio. "I can feel it in the way your valve clenches as you watch them. You want to feel what it's like. In here."

Mixmaster reached a servo up, tapping at Jazz's chest plating just over his spark. As the digits pressed him into the Constructicon's form, Jazz became aware of Mixmaster's own spark, so very close to his. The cement mixer must be feeling them right now, feeling both of his gestalt mates as they joined.

What was it like; to feel two of the mechs you were bonded to become one? Could Mixmaster feel what they felt in each other? Or was it no different from the everyday of having your very being connected to somebody—to several somebodies—else? Did it feel good; better than a combined processor link interface and frag, like he'd heard pair bonding was? Or did it feel lonely, like being left behind? Or maybe it felt like nothing at all in a gestalt bond, simply a servo and a pede deciding to touch?

Mixmaster was right, he did want to know. He wanted to know what it was like to feel what Prowl was feeling. He wanted to feel how Prowl felt Scavenger. He wanted to have a part Prowl inside of him, in a way he could never let go, in a way neither of them could ever escape.

Jazz overloaded watching them bond, his processor swimming with the need to take Scavenger's place. As he came down, he let Mixmaster use his body, never looking away from the entwined forms. He watched them overload, first the merged pair together, then Long Haul and Mixmaster almost in unison at the feedback. Jazz watched them all, captivated by what was happening around him.

Mixmaster pulled out of him as Prowl and Scavenger drew apart. Jazz didn't react, still mesmerized by what he had witnessed... by everything he'd been allowed to glimpse. As he began to regain his processing power, he attempted to get up from Mixmaster's lap. But a sturdy servo on his hip kept him in place. Confused, Jazz looked back to question Mixmaster's action, but was quickly distracted by the sight of Prowl moving towards him... his spark still bare.

Jazz froze at the sight, completely clueless on what to do. When Prowl descended on him, he could only reach out to pull the tactician in. Mixmaster easily held them both as Prowl assaulted Jazz in a needy kiss, pressing their frames together, spark reaching out in need.

Before Jazz could second guess himself—second guess the entire situation—he sent the command to let his chest plates split, giving Prowl what they both wanted.

When their sparks met, it was like nothing Jazz had ever experienced before. He could feel Prowl, feel his every emotion and thought. It was like a data cable link interface, but instead of the information being fed to him in selected packets, everything was being transmitted directly into his spark. It was overwhelming. He couldn't tell where he ended and Prowl began as they started to pulse in synchronous.

He delved into the tactician, into his feelings and desires, into the love neither of them dared to speak out loud. He felt everything Prowl felt for him—had ever felt for him—and sent back all he felt for Prowl in return.

At the edge of it all, Jazz could feel them too. Five curious presences just on the fringe of Prowl's existence. They didn't reach out to him like Prowl did, simply sat and watched, waiting to see what would happen next.

As the merge drew to an end, Prowl's consciousness slipped away from his grasp, throwing him abruptly back to reality and leaving a dull ache in it's absence. It was just a surface merge, not enough to form a bond. But as Prowl's plating closed and darkness overtook the room, Jazz knew he had to have more. He'd been given a taste of a new drug and was already hooked.

He'd do anything to feel Prowl's spark against his own again. Even if that meant he'd have to deal with being joined to the Constructicons too. It wouldn't matter, as long as he could feel Prowl's presence beside him for the rest of eternity.

When Prowl collapsed against him, exhausted by the evening's affair, Jazz held him close. There, embracing the disheveled tactician as the sturdy mech below supported them both, Jazz was confident in exactly what he wanted in life.

**Author's Note:**

> I have, at the very least, one more part to this series planned, possibly more after I read Sins of the Wreckers and reread the end of RiD. There are some ideas I want to explore based off of some to the happenings in Combiner Wars too. So stay posted.


End file.
